Fate's Games
by fantasy is everything
Summary: A toddler left on the steps of a house in the middle of the night with a Horcrux in his head. Needless to say, that was not how Merlin had expected this night to go. What to do now? Why, take the boy in and raise him, of course! Rated M for the somewhat colourful language.
1. Chapter 1

A lone figure stood in the shadow of a house, scrutinizing the nearly empty street in front of him. He had arrived only moments ago, just in time to see a cat turning into a woman a few houses down from his position.

Stranger things had been happening over the last few days, however. Shooting stars, countless owls soaring into sunny skies, now this Animagus transformation in the middle of a muggle neighbourhood – while they may not count as extraordinary in the warlock's mind, it did raise the suspicions of the non-magical population. If there was one lesson he had learned in his rather long life, suspicion could lead to very dark emotions and even darker deeds.

This was not the time to dwell on the witch hunts, though. Dazzling blue eyes turned to the sky where the roar of a petrol engine signalled the arrival of the one he had been waiting for. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort – hardly a year old and he was already accumulating an impressive list of titles. Humans really were ridiculous sometimes, hailing a toddler for something he could not possibly have been responsible for, forgoing the much more logical option of assuming the parents might have in truth committed the deed.

It was the only reason he was here, in fact. He'd been working on a cure for vampirism in Japan (because Death had once again been harping on about the curse of immortality, how much paperwork it caused for him – as if he couldn't just abolish it, if it really bothered him that much - and how Emrys apparently still owed him one) when he'd suddenly felt the tell-tale pull of the power over life and death being used by a human. Now, if that had happened during the Middle Ages when the Old Religion still reigned over magic, he wouldn't have been bothered by it all too much; it was a rare gift back then, but it happened occasionally. For someone to use it in the 20th century, however, was definitely disconcerting.

Determined not to give Death the opportunity to claim another favour from the all-powerful sorcerer, Merlin quickly packed his bags and travelled to the sight of the incident, a small cottage in Great Britain (oh great Albion, how he hated it). It only took him a couple of minutes to figure out the gist of what had happened – powerful dark wizard, murdering the parents, then going for the child only for the killing curse to be repelled by the mother's sacrifice. So far, so good. But how the mother had managed to evoke this ancient, forgotten magic was sadly still beyond him.

Since then, Merlin had taken to following the toddler, hoping for a moment alone with him both to examine his memories of the night and to make sure there were no lasting after-effects. Unfortunately, he ran into the rather significant problem of the child simply never being left alone. He supposed that it was understandable as he was proclaimed the saviour of the wizarding world, but seriously – they wouldn't even leave him when he was sleeping?

All this made the scene unfolding in front of him all the more surreal. Shortly after a giant had touched down on the motorcycle, baby Harry in his arms, the weird but reputedly wise wizard Dumbledork had appeared and placed the boy on the doorstep of one of the houses, all the while claiming it was in Harry's best interests, how he should grow up to be humble, yada yada yada. It was November, and a cold one, too, for Heaven's sake!

Though itching to curse the old man to oblivion, Merlin restrained himself (barely) and instead waited until the last of the magical idiots had disappeared into thin air with loud cracks. Only then did he finally approach said house. The boy was slumbering peacefully, completely oblivious to his abandonment, his thumb stuck in his mouth. A peculiar scar was clearly visible on his forehead, immediately capturing the ancient warlock's attention.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he mumbled under his breath. He now distantly recalled how Death had been bitching about some human sorcerer who had been dabbling in old magic to make himself immortal a couple of years back, but his second least favourite god hadn't demanded that he take care of it, so Merlin had quite honestly forgotten about it. It was quite clear that this Dark Lord Voldemort was the perpetrator mentioned back then. "A Horcrux inside a child's mind … I swear, if this is how he's trying to get me to take care of his own problems, he's going to pay," Merlin cursed quietly.

"Oh, no, darling, for once, Death is mostly innocent." The warlock stiffened as he heard the annoyingly high voice which somehow always sounded simultaneously like laughter and deceit. Frowning, he turned around, growling dangerously, "You." A young girl, about eleven years of age, with a doll-like face, beautifully curled blond hair and an endearing smile now stood in front of the fence surrounding the house, twirling a pink rose in her right hand.

"My, aren't you happy to see me? I thought we were besties!" She pouted. He had to give it to her – she did look sickeningly cute. "You're not still mad because of that thing back in the Middle Ages, are you? I mean, millennia have passed since then!"

Merlin's frown only deepened. "Actually, it's just been a little over one millennium, but I know such technicalities have never been your strong point." He knew there'd been a reason why he'd taken to avoiding Albion – bad luck just constantly seemed to follow him whenever he came back. This evening only proved to be another one to add to his 'Shittiest days ever' list. He sighed. "What did you do now?"

"Well, I just felt so sorry for Death, you know? He's always incredibly busy, he never has time to play, no wonder he's so stressed!" Her chocolate brown eyes widened almost comically, tears glistering in the corners of her eyes. "So when he mentioned this Dark Lord that was giving him a lot of trouble, I just had to help!"

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache lurking just around the corner. "Please tell me you didn't declare that this kid would be his vanquisher."

Her head tilted slightly to the left, big eyes looking up innocently at him. "It was a great idea! Death doesn't need to waste any more thoughts on that human, and we all get to watch a kid stumbling through the various challenges his life will throw at him! I won't need anyone to play with me for years!" She beamed. "Death did help me a bit with that wonderful lightning bolt on his brow, though. He still refuses to give me some direct control over life and death, no matter how often I ask for it." Her beaming smile turned into a slight frown.

Merlin, for his part, had heard enough. Abruptly, he turned back to the child, gently lifting him into his arms after pocketing the letter Dumbledork had written for the inhabitants of the house. At the girl's questioning gaze, he snapped at her harshly, "I'm taking him. No way in hell am I letting you mess up his life, too." He proceeded to stride past her, rage never quite leaving his face.

"Once a prophecy has been spoken, a destiny decreed, it can't be evaded, Emrys. You should know this better than anyone." As he glanced back at her, an unusual seriousness had taken over her features, for once betraying her age. Despite the warning in her eyes, Merlin only sneered at her.

"Oh, I do know, believe me. However, he is a magician, and therefor is part of my domain as well. There's no rule against helping him, is there?"

Much to his displeasure, her expression morphed into a gentle yet playful smile as she glided towards him, whispering, "You're so easy to manipulate, honey." Before Emrys could unleash his fury, Fate turned into dust.

 _xXx_

 _A/N: Well, this is a prologue, guys, if you think I should continue, tell me! It might take a while though, because I haven't worked out any details of this story. At all. The idea literally just popped into my head a couple of hours ago. I mean, Merlin raising Harry - how did I not think of this before?_

 _Anyway, so if you have any preferences for this story, like which house Harry should be sorted into, how crazy Merlin should be after one thousand years of being a god (spoilers!) or how super-powered Harry should become, let me know! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

Bright sunrays gently caressed the pale warlock's skin as he lay in the sand, relaxed, sleep teasing his mind with promises of colourful dreams. Not that his real surroundings lacked such cheerfulness; all the shades of blue imaginable stretched out before him, the sky merging almost seamlessly with the sea on the horizon. The homey cottage, the only building adorning the landscape for several miles, offered a tasteful contrast with its dark beams, its brilliant white walls and its burgundy roof. Paradoxically, the house was not only surrounded by palms as one might expect on a beach, but also a myriad of other plants, many of which should not be able to survive in this climatic zone.

However, Merlin had never been one to care greatly about the laws of nature humans had discovered and obeyed almost meticulously; after all, he was the lord of all magic – achieving miracles beyond ordinary imagination was basically his job description. If he wanted an impossible garden, then there was nobody who could stop him from it! (Well, almost nobody …)

His relative peace of mind was not to last, unfortunately. After what felt like only seconds of recreation, a shrill wail ripped through the gentle rushing of the waves. Merlin winced. While it had seemed like a great plan to spite Fate and to meddle in her games, he was already starting to regret it. Not to mention that he seemed to have played right into her hands once again. Psychotic witch.

Determined not to give into the child too easily and to prove his own stubbornness, he squeezed his eyes shut and imagined beautiful (and loud!) music playing. As per his command, several instruments popped up around him and filled the air with Beethoven's Symphony No. 5. Ah, bless the Europeans and their great taste in music. Merlin sighed contently.

Only moments later, the cry gained such a volume that Merlin sat up in shock. When he realised his subconscious response, he glared at the cottage, his left eye twitching. Really, how had he ever thought that raising a child would be a good idea? Rubbing his temples, he made his wonderful music disappear once again. There was simply no way he could enjoy it with his annoying housemate.

"Goodness, what do you have in there, a banshee?" A giant of a man wearing ragged jeans and a bleached shirt, honey corkscrew curls falling down wildly to his waist, approached casually seemingly out of nowhere, lifting a sceptical eyebrow towards the house. As if a switch had been flipped, Merlin's tense expression morphed into one of relief. "Bless the Lord for your arrival! Finally, someone can save me from this insanity!" Dramatically, he threw his hands towards the sky, while the tanned and toned man took a cautious step back.

"Oh, no, no, no; no way hell am I getting involved in whatever crazy scheme you've devised now. I quite like my sanity, thank you very much." He crossed his arms over his chest resolutely, completely unfazed by Merlin's unimpressed glare. "But how can you abandon me at such a crucial point in my life? I never would have thought you to be a fair-weather friend." Disappointment laced the warlock's voice.

"Sorry, my ears take precedence over any friendship," he deadpanned, "besides, wolves and banshees don't mix well." Merlin spluttered with indignation. "It's not a banshee! It's a baby."

The previously impassive face now sported a comically shocked expression. "A … a baby? No, please, don't tell me you've procreated! I can't deal with two of you!" He fell to his knees, folding his hands as if he were praying. "If there is any god out there who doesn't despise me, please, I beg of you, tell me this is all a horrible, horrible nightmare!" Crocodile tears dripped slowly to the ground.

Though Merlin' experienced a strong urge to scowl, he put a benevolent hand on the canine god's shoulder. "Let me comfort you by saying that he's not mine. I only rescued him from Fate." Amber eyes, still glistering with tears, looked up at him sceptically. "You didn't. No man can escape from Fate, you know."

Now Merlin couldn't help but frown. "I swear, everybody thinks I'm an idiot," he growled, "I know Fate bloody obsesses over her victims and that she never lets anyone go. Believe me, I know!" As if responding to his guardian's raised voice, Harry's wail once again grew louder. Both gods pressed their hands over their ears at the clearly magically enhanced cry.

"Maybe you should feed him!" At the shout of his godly friend, Merlin's expression turned incredulous. "What, you mean humans need food? Gee, thanks, Sherlock!" He turned on his heel and marched towards the house while screaming, "I'm not taking parenting advice from you, anyway, Lycaon!" Grinning at the other's cursing about the low blow, he entered the hellhole he had once called home.

xXx

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat in his office, stroking his beard with one hand, while the other one toyed with the delicate Remembrall strangely filled with red smoke. He was forgetting something, he just knew it. The Remembrall only confirmed his suspicions. But what was it? The last days had been so hectic, what with all the various demands from the Ministry, the Wizengamot, the press, the Order … He knew he was an incredibly wise genius, but did they all have to pester him at the same time? This felt like the first minute in weeks he could spend alone with his thoughts, and Fawkes for that matter. He eyed the bird suspiciously. "Fawkes, you didn't eat all my lemon drops, did you?"

The bird gave him an evil eye in response, which he interpreted as a 'no'. Hm. So he hadn't forgotten to stock up his supply, then. He followed the train of thought, sensing that it was leading somewhere. "What about my liquorice wheels?" If a bird could look incredulous, Fawkes did right at that moment, for some reason Albus couldn't possibly fathom. In his opinion, his discovery of the liquorice wheels in Muggle London deserved an Order of Merlin, Second Class, at least. Muggles frequently managed to surprise him with their innovations.

Wait … liquorice … that was it! He'd discovered the liquorice wheels while waiting for the right time to deliver little Harry to his aunt! Harry Potter – such a sweet little boy, destined for greatness if the prophecy was to be believed (which it was). There was a boy he could entrust his legacy to.

He frowned, looking at some of the whirring instruments adorning his shelves. Shouldn't there be some sign of the wards' successful set-up? Granted, he still hadn't quite figured out how exactly Lily had erected the protection around young Harry, but he was pretty certain that it was connected to blood and love. The wards surrounding Privet Drive, which Lily had put up years ago, still didn't show any change in strength or structure as he had theorised, however. It was possible, of course, that his theory was wrong, but it was highly unlikely. His name wasn't Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore for nothing.

Slowly and gracefully, as if performing for an audience, the wizard stood up while adjusting his colourful robes. "I'll have to check on this in person, then," he told his office, before addressing Fawkes, "you'll keep an eye on everything, right?" Taking Fawkes' indifference as confirmation, he took the rubber duck on his desk and swiftly turned it into a portkey.

Only minutes later, the headmaster of Great Britain's most elite magical academy appeared in the prim and proper neighbourhood of Little Whinging where the Dursleys lived, who were as of yet completely oblivious to the glorious presence they would soon be graced with.

Strangely enough, they didn't appear to be very delighted to see him, a freak, as the gigantic man of the household had proclaimed him before slamming the door shut, almost breaking his poor crooked nose in the process. Thankfully, though, Albus Dumbledore was not a person to be discouraged by such irrational behaviour and simply apparated into the living room, which resulted in a shrill shriek from Petunia Dursley, the person he'd been looking for all along.

"I deeply apologise for intruding unannouncedly, my dear, but I was wondering how young Harry was faring?" Though he was certain that his actions weren't highly inappropriate by any social standards, the Dursleys apparently seemed to think otherwise. Amidst the cursing, name-calling and other obscenities, he eventually picked up that no, they didn't want anything to do with freaks, they had no idea who this Harry person he kept mentioning was, and that he should get off their lawn and never show his face again. Charming people.

In the end, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore once again sat in his throne and contemplated his next actions. Harry Potter had evidently never made it to his relatives, which meant somebody had kidnapped him from the doorstep. How unexpected and, frankly, unpleasant. He could hardly ask for help from the ministry since he would have to admit that someone had bested the Supreme Mugwump. He'd therefor have to recover Harry himself. But who would have the audacity to steal the Boy-Who-Lived?

There were really only two options. Personally, he was hoping for the first as retrieving Harry from some maniacal fans would definitely be preferable to having to rescue him from one of Tom's fanatical supporters. Especially since with the latter, there was no guarantee that the little boy was even still alive. How to find the child in the first place, though?

His gaze eventually zeroed in on Fawkes, who eyed him with suspicion. A brilliant idea sparked in one of the corners of his far-reaching mind, and he grabbed a piece of parchment and his eagle-feather quill.

xXx

After finally finishing the gruesome task of changing Harry's wet and stinking diapers, the ancient warlock proceeded to cradle the toddler in his arms, rocking him slightly, all the while under Lycaon's intense scrutiny. Finally, Merlin cracked just a little. "Stop staring at us, would you? You're making Harry nervous." The child gurgled happily in response. The first werewolf snickered. "It's just funny seeing you looking so awkward."

Merlin glared. "I'm not awkward! I've always been great with children, I'll have you know." Maybe Lycaon would have taken him more seriously if Harry hadn't chosen that exact moment to burp loudly and give the warlock's shirt a taste of his partly digested breakfast. The glare turned disgustedly towards the baby. "That was completely unnecessary, you know." Trying to preserve his last shred of dignity, Merlin gracefully deposited Harry in his crib and erased his shirt from existence, meticulously ignoring his friend's howling laughter.

"I take it back, I take it all back! You're not just funny, you're hilarious!" Thankfully, Merlin was saved from finding an adequately poisonous response by a brilliant flash of fire. He rubbed his eyes disbelievingly. The fiery bird blinked. Lycaon sniffed the air and made a comment about grilled chicken. The bird responded by trying to eat the wolf's face.

For another couple of moments, Merlin stood frozen in the middle of Harry's bedroom, watching the surreal scenario in front of him. Then he remembered that he was a warlock, and really, nothing should surprise him anymore. "Alright, alright, that's enough. No eating the other guests in my house." Not that his two visitors had any choice in the matter as they were both currently unable to move. "You, bird, what are you doing here?" After allowing him a modicum of freedom to hopefully answer his question, the bird looked at him with deep eyes and chirped. Slightly dissatisfied with the response, he turned towards Lycaon. "What did he say?"

The other god threw him an incredulous look. "Do I look like a bird to you?"

"You're an animal god, right? So you understand animals!"

"My domain only consists of wolves and dogs, I have nothing to do with chicks!"

"No, I daresay that you do not."

"Oy!"

"What, you said it yourself!"

"One day, Emrys, one day … besides, aren't you the god of magic and stuff? This bird's obviously magical, why don't you talk to him?!"

"I don't talk to animals."

"But didn't you say your name was originally Merlin? You know, the falcon?"

"My mother's bad taste in names has nothing to do with this. I don't speak bird."

Apparently Fawkes had enough of the endless bickering as he poked Merlin with his claw. A claw which, conveniently, had a letter tied to it. "Oh, so you're a delivery bird!" If a phoenix' looks could kill, then the ancient warlock surely would have burst into flames right about now. Since they couldn't, Merlin was relatively relaxed as he opened his letter. "Huh, seems like Dumbledork wrote to me!"

"Who?" Both the wolf and the bird looked at him somewhat incredulously. Merlin looked up from his letter to glance at his audience. "Well, you know, the guy who left Harry on a doorstep in November. Seems like he's wondering where the kid is. Idiot." He glared at the bird. "You're his spy, then, I presume?" At what he assumed was an affirmative response, he snapped his fingers (for dramatic effect) and a cage surrounded the potential traitor. "Can't have you ratting me out, can I?"

"Wait, you kidnapped the kid?" It was rather paradoxical how protective of children Lycaon was nowadays, considering he'd first been turned into a wolf because he served Zeus his own son as dinner to test the god's omniscience. Well, people change. "Is it still kidnapping when the kid was already abandoned?"

Whatever Lycaon's response might have been, Merlin would never find out. He was too distracted by the sudden weight and momentary heat on his right shoulder. As he turned his head to figure out what the reason for this was, he found himself uncomfortably close to a certain smug bird's eyes. He jerked back, causing said bird to lose its balance and flutter in a distressed manner. Served the bloody chicken just right. "How the hell did you do this, bird?"

At the chirping, pointed glances and the digging claws in his shoulder, Merlin suddenly started to wonder when his life had gone wrong that he now had to resort to interpreting a bird's body language. Even for him, this was starting to become both strange and pitiable. "I think he wants you to reply to that Dumbledork's letter."

Normally, Merlin would have commented on Lycaon's impressive ability to suddenly understand birds, after all, but the annoying weight on his shoulder increased its pressure as if to tell him to get a move on. Sighing, he grabbed his college block and spent several minutes searching for a working pen before finally sitting down at his kitchen table, reading the letter once again. "Wait, his name's actually Dumbledore?"

xXx

Dearest Dumbledork,

so, I heard you're worried about little Harry. How cute. Maybe you should have thought about that before you left him on a doorstep in November. Have I mentioned that it can be very cold in November? It was freaking cold. And Harry's a baby, which means he should be warm.

But I'm digressing. Harry's a perfectly fine, happy, healthy baby boy who, most fascinatingly, already seems to have managed to cast a bloodcurdling hex. I know, very impressive. I suppose we can't expect anything less from the Chosen One, though, can we?

Send him his Hogwarts letter when it's time for him to go to school. I can assure you that he will attend. Until then, I'd be most grateful if you'd be so kind to sod off. I shudder to think about how a young child under your guidance would turn out to be. Even your bird has awful manners.

Here goes to hoping that I won't hear from you anytime soon!

Yours,

a mysterious bastard who's absolutely not going to reveal his name to you of all people

xXx

"Fawkes, do you think I should be worried about little Harry?"

The fiery bird wisely pretended to sleep.

 _xXx_

 _A/N: I'm just full of creativity right now. Figures that it happens just a week before exams. Well, I'll enjoy it while it lasts!_

 _So I know I said last chapter was a prologue, but I just couldn't resist writing about Merlin handling a toddler ... so the prologue will be a little bit extended._

 _Don't forget to tell me what you think!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Warning! If you're a buddhist, you might be offended by my portrayal of Siddhartha Gautama. I'd like to remind you that this is just a piece of fiction and that it thrives of the somewhat paradoxical personality I give to historical figures._

 _xXx_

An ancient warlock and a toddler sat on a carpet and stared intently at each other. Or at least, the ancient warlock did, while the toddler was basically fascinated by whatever entered his line of sight.

"So, Harry, today is one of the most important days in your life." At the sound of Merlin's voice, Harry's eyes focussed on his face once again. He beamed. "Da!"

Merlin scowled slightly. "No, Harry, I'm not your daddy, and that's beside the point. As I was saying, today is a most momentous …" This time, the child didn't even wait for him to finish. "Da?" The ancient warlock sighed, rubbing his temples.

"I really don't understand how anyone can cope with such limited vocabulary." The baby gurgled, completely oblivious to the implied insult. "But anyway, to get back to the point; since Lycaon was apparently too lazy to fulfil my wishes, I'm simply going to have to make do with only my genius mind. You really don't need to be worried; it's most definitely within my power to achieve this on my own. I am, after all, the god of magic and consequently imagination, you know!"

Much to his displeasure, the kid's stare had turned quite blank during his lecture instead of dazzling with admiration. Oh, well. He would learn to appreciate his awesomeness at some point.

"Is there any particular reason you're bragging to a child who can't even grasp what you're saying?" Merlin frowned. He really had to do something about people showing up unannounced whenever they pleased. Then, he realised who exactly had spoken, and his frown turned into a brilliant smile.

"Siggy, you're finally here, I can't believe it! I was starting to think everyone had abandoned me …"

"I wasn't aware we were so closely acquainted that you could call me such a horrible name, Emrys. It's Freud to you." The elderly looking man turned up his nose while stroking his beard. He clearly still had a thing or two to learn about respecting one's elders. "Lycaon mentioned that you wished for mental treatment?"

Merlin gawked at him. "He what? I don't need any kind of treatment, I'm perfectly sane!" He felt extremely insulted at the sceptical glance from the former doctor. "You're not here for me, you're here for him!" Following the direction the warlock's finger was pointing, Sigmund Freud briefly scrutinized the child.

"Seems like normal behaviour to me." How trying to eat his guardian's finger constituted as normal behaviour, Merlin couldn't possibly fathom. This was obviously attempted cannibalism. However, he did understand that this was, in no way, poor little Harry's fault.

"He can't possibly be okay! He's got a fricking Horcrux in his head!" Cue the uncomprehending look. "A what?" Merlin rolled his eyes. Doctors and their unhealthy denial of all things magical.

"A horcrux. You know, piece of another person's soul? Way to become immortal?" And cue the sceptical look. "You can't split a soul."

Merlin's expression turned smug, and maybe slightly mischievous. "You also can't technically turn a guy's skin green without as much as a glance." To say the look on Freud's face was hilarious would be a severe understatement. Fortunately, he was spared from any immediate retribution due to the other arrival he had been expecting for days.

"Lycaon said you wanted to see me?" The bored voice turned mocking when he caught sight of the (still green) doctor. "Who're you? The god of the Martians?"

"How dare you?! My name is Sigmund Freud, founder of the Psychoanalysis, god of the mind and any matters related to it. It is not my fault that this immature brat has clearly been given far too much power!" Mostly ignoring the doctor's angry tirade, the Indian god focused on cleaning his nails.

"Never heard of you. Guess I was buzzed."

"I've been a god for decades!" While the indignation in the egocentric god's voice was extremely entertaining, Merlin decided that he couldn't let him get away with such blatant exaggeration. "Four decades, darling, let's not get too cocky."

Leave it to Sid to immediately pick up on the trend. "Just four decades? That's nothing, I once forgot an entire century."

"When was that?" It became apparent that the poor doctor had no idea who he was dealing with either. Squabbling over time with Siddhartha Gautama was always a bad idea since there was no way you could possibly emerge victorious. He was – as he continually liked to point out – one of the oldest gods currently in existence. Most others had at some point struck a deal with Fate to find a successor. Added to that, Buddha (as he was commonly hailed) was the god of the soul, of spirituality, once a strong advocate of reincarnation, and as such, he had allegedly inherited the memories of all his predecessors, something previously unheard of.

"You really expect me to remember?"

"Anyway," Merlin pinched his nose, having successfully suppressed the memories of just how annoying some of the gods could be, "about why I called you here …"

"Is it going to take long?"

"Why, you already got plans?"

"No, it's just been ages since I've last been to Vegas; apparently humans have expanded and improved it a lot."

"This could be an extremely important matter we're dealing with here! How can you possibly think about any carnal pleasures right now?!"

"What, were you expecting someone more spiritually inclined? I've given up that crap more than a millennium ago. Far too taxing on the long term, if you ask me."

"To get back to the point," amazingly, his two guests actually shut up. Maybe he should use compulsion more often, although one of his godly acquaintances (especially one of those two) was bound to pick up on it at some point.

"I have here a very cute toddler, whose mind is being leeched off by a piece of a Dark Lord's soul. Since you two," he paused to give them both pointed glances, "are the experts on both the mind and the soul respectively, and I can add the magic if necessary, I thought this would be a wonderful project to promote inter-godly cooperation. Now, are you in or out?"

xXx

Remus Lupin tiredly rubbed his eyes as he strolled leisurely through the halls of Hogwarts, looking like crap. The last full moon had adorned the sky only a few nights ago, and it had been like hell on earth. It was the first transformation in a long time without the support of a pack – be it one of werewolves he was currently spying on, or his chosen one full of animagi – and he had successfully forgotten how much more painful and terrifying it was when he was all alone.

Wolves were pack animals – and while the human part of his soul usually made most of the calls, the moon took any such trained habits and erased them.

Even now, after several days of recuperation, he could still feel the wolf scratching at his cage, constantly making demands, which was why Remus was here, at Hogwarts, on the way to the headmaster's office.

It had been the first moon since the incident at Godric's Hollow. Not only did the wolf mourn the passing of valuable followers and rage at the betrayal of another, he also acutely felt the absence of his cub. For once, Remus had absolutely no qualms about obeying his animalistic side. He missed Harry – the cheerful boy, oblivious to the dark war going on around him, able to light up the entire room with his laughter.

Of course, Remus understood why he couldn't be the one to take in the little child. It was too dangerous (at least when the full moon was approaching and his mood became rather volatile), not to mention the public backlash of the Saviour of the Light being raised by a dark creature. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't at least visit him occasionally, right?

Much to his displeasure, Albus had ignored any letters he had sent on this subject. Maybe he thought a clean break would be best to bear the separation, but Remus considered it rather audacious of the wizard to make the decision for him.

So he may or may not have started conspiring with Minerva (and hell, did it still feel awkward to call his former head of house by her first name) to catch Albus unawares. She had given him the password for the headmaster's office as well as his schedule for the next few days, officially inviting him to Hogwarts lest the wards would alert Albus to any trespassers.

He was still impressed that apparently, one of his schemes had played out perfectly, despite not having Prongs or Wormtail (not Padfoot, definitely not Padfoot) as a sounding board. The look of surprise and something else – annoyance? – on Albus' face was just outstanding.

Nevertheless, he banished any smugness from his own expression, instead pasting a pleasant smile on his lips. "Hello, Albus, I hope I'm not disturbing you?" Well, the headmaster did appear to engage in an intense staring match with his phoenix, but considering Fawkes' trill of joy, the bird revelled in the reprieve.

A grandfatherly smile grazed the old man's features. "Remus, my boy! No, of course you do not, my door is always open for you." Maybe he simply hadn't received his desperate letters? "What can I do for you?"

Remus suppressed any emerging guilt about the traitorous thoughts that had plagued him during the last few days. "I was just wondering how Harry was doing, you know? I mean, I understand, of course, that he can't live with me, but still, he is James' boy. I'd like to know he's okay, at least."

"He's fine." Silence reigned for a couple of seconds, until Remus realised that Albus didn't plan on elaborating on that statement. Fury rose in him as the wolf in his mind growled.

"He's fine? That's all you have to tell me? He was almost killed by You-Know-Who! How could he possibly be fine?" His voice rose with every syllable uttered, while Albus remained surprisingly (and infuriatingly) calm and impassive.

"I think you underestimate the resilience young children often demonstrate. I'm sure he's perfectly alright." Another tense silence. This time it was broken when Remus' upset mind caught the implication that statement held.

"Wait … you're sure? You mean, you don't actually know? You don't know where he is?!" He was not getting hysterical. No. Definitely not. "What did you do with him?!"

Albus' hesitation told him everything he needed to know. He'd placed his faith in this old codger, and that's what he got. Harry was gone, had disappeared, was kidnapped, who knew. He'd never see him again.

For the first time in his life, he was glad to have a partly split personality. While his animalistic side was normally something to be tightly controlled, now he didn't mind the wolf's threatening growl that escaped his lips, and the tinge of fear that subsequently invaded the old warlock's expression.

"I can't believe you." His voice was dark, promising retribution. "I'll find him, you'll see. And I'm never letting you get close to him, ever again." The werewolf spun on his heel, striding out of the office, ignoring Albus' spluttered words to convince him otherwise.

xXx

"You all know what to do?" His question was met with the ever-indignant Doctor's look of superiority and Sid's bored expression of 'Could you not waste my time with such redundant questions'. It was pretty impressive how he could articulate himself so clearly without having to actually talk. Well, maybe it was communication between two souls? Too cheesy.

It had taken what felt like hours to get the two to stop their bickering (no, he was not being a hypocrite) and to actually start working on the problem. Surprisingly, they had needed only little time to form their plan of action.

Now, Merlin took the first step and knocked out the cute toddler. Gently, of course. The pen the little tyke had been sucking on fell out of his mouth, leaving his tongue dyed blue. Right, maybe he should have put a stop to this sooner. On a whim, he vanished any traces of ink in Harry's body.

"You sure you're cut out to be a parent?" Oh, how he wished to wipe the constantly mocking grin from the Indian god's expression. He growled. "Believe it or not, I'm even less likely to listen to you. You're a notorious drunk. Lycaon, at least, was a father once."

The look Sid gave him clearly expressed exactly what he thought of that statement. Well, he'd never said the werewolf had been a stellar parent.

Surprisingly, things did not escalate at that point. This was mostly due to the fact that Freud established a mind link between the trio and, as he once again emphasized, he had no desire to spend any extended period of time in their heads. They thus set to work.

The actual process was rather anticlimactic. Considering that they were dealing with extremely dark magic here, Merlin had expected fireworks, smoke and nasty laughter. But evidently, if three gods were rendering the work of a human (no matter how powerful and dark) harmless, they also got rid of the suspense. Pity.

Finally, Sid sat on the floor cross-legged, staring at the black apple in his hand, while Freud was completely focussed on Harry's mind to see if the Horcrux' presence had done any lasting damage. Leaving the doctor in his element, Merlin instead addressed the god of the soul. "So, what did you find?"

The glazed gaze snapped from the apple to the warlock, slowly returning to the real world. "Well, that Voldie guy made five other Horcruxes aside from this one. A diary, a ring, a locket, a teacup and a diadem. Geez, how girly. I'll write you a list." He gave the apple another considerate look, then took a bite, scrunching up his face in disgust. "God, this tastes rotten."

Merlin threw him an incredulous look. "You are eating the soul of a psychopath." The Indian god looked at him confusedly, as if to ask 'Your point?'. It would probably be better not to dive too deeply into this topic.

Thankfully, Freud finished his examination, effectively preventing from anything crazier entering Sid's mind and subsequently contaminating Merlin with his insanity. "The boy's mind seems to be perfectly intact. His thoughts are currently centred on the taste of his toes, but that's perfectly normal."

Both Sid and Merlin looked rather disbelieving, but decided not to question the specialist in the room. The doctor stiffly straightened his jacket under the scrutiny, then turned away from the pair. "I'll be taking my leave now."

Merlin beamed. "Thanks, Siggy! I owe you one!" The god didn't deign to reply, instead vanished (surprisingly) in a show of colours.

The ancient warlock turned back around to Sid just in time to catch the black apple before it hit his right eye. "You know how to get rid of this, right?" Not waiting for his answer, the god pressed a sheet of paper (presumably the promised list) against Merlin's chest and strolled past him, winking.

"I expect regular offerings." The warlock rolled his eyes as the other disappeared. Only Sid would use his favour to make him fill up his stash.

 _xXx_

 _A/N: I'm still not quite sure how much time I will spend on Harry's early years with Merlin. It will definitely still take a while for him to go to Hogwarts, though._


End file.
